SunSoakedWhistles
by FallArbor
Summary: Whether you're learning to whistle or learning to live, sun soaked afternoons are best spent together. SoKai...


Hey hey, FallArbor here again. This is a bit of a new style for me, so take it easy in the reviews – all the grammar here is intentional, and the word choice (limited), is intentional as well. The simple life is complex enough as it is, and sometimes the best way to convey emotion is to do it the way it's really thought out. Be warned…it's more cutesy then I'm used to.

-SunSoakedWhistles-

He couldn't help but notice how very green his palm tree looked today. Though he knew it wasn't _his_ palm tree in the regular sense. Palm trees don't like to be owned. But it was his palm tree anyway, because he sat there and thought and thought and thought about all those things that might or might not affect him today or tomorrow or the next day, or sometimes he just thought about nothing.

So it was his palm tree.

On days he thought the tree looked very green, he made it a habit of trying to learn how to whistle. Generally this ended up producing a very rude, if not comical spitting between a lemon-pucker hole in his lips, but he didn't mind, and the tree certainly didn't harbor any complaints. His palm tree was forgiving like that.

So today he tried to whistle.

But the clouds came out, and it pitterpattered rain and more rain, and his shirt got soaked and pants got sopping, so he sloshed into his house to watch the palm tree behind his favorite window, tap tapping with rain and dancing frenzied with the sloshing mosaic of more and more and more rain. His palm tree was a good dancer through his favorite window.

His mom asked him what he was doing.

_Watching my palm tree dance, _he thought.

"Nothing."

--

The murky night dripped by like an old faucet, slow and methodically fluid against the gentle tick of his favorite Mickey Mouse clock collecting dust in the corner of his closet.

He purposefully left the alarm on so he could ignore it.

It was a nice sounding alarm.

He sat up and weaved his fingers through his bushy brown hair, and let loose a mighty yawn.

Good morning, sun.

The sink offered its Buenos Dias with a steady stream of clear water, and the mirror winked hello in the glittering dew-drop sunlight peaking in through his neighbor's foliage, and he spied a flowering reddish haze towards the bottom of his vision against the silhouette of his palm tree.

He was outside in an instant, pajamas and toothbrush in tow.

"Sleepwalking, huh?" The red asked, giggling crystal.

"I thought my palm tree caught fire," He admitted sheepishly, toes mussing up the dirt.

The girl hopped down, her read hair following suit in a short stream of fires and embers and rubies.

"Paranoid, Sora?" She giggled again. More crystals, he thought, and he'd need a cabinet for them.

With a tired leap, he landed on the top branch, groaning lightly under his weight. But he knew the tree was only kidding around with him. He would never be too heavy for it.

"Do you think the leaves look a little greener today than usual?" He asked after a moment.

She hopped up on a lower branch, the gentle bounce in her step reflecting in violet eyes that just watched and watched and dreamed.

"I dunno, they looked pretty green yesterday…" She trailed off, caressing a leaf as she stared intently at it.

He waited for the answer that remained non-forthcoming, but eventually gave up and leaned back, not quite willing to embarrass himself by spitting all over his esteemed guest on his esteemed tree.

"It's a nice tree, Sora." She said at last.

A soft breeze whispered thanks through the fanning leaves, and Sora sighed. What a nice day.

Kairi liked to whistle on nice days.

It was like a bird.

"Tooo—weeeeeeet"

Sora thought it sounded nice.

"Kairi?" He found his voice after a time, nestled in a pocket somewhere close to his heart.

"Yep?"

"Teach me to whistle." He sat upright, sliding down next to her.

"Hmm…" She tapped her finger against her chin, eyes rolling and forehead creasing and red hair blinding… "It's not that easy to teach, you know…like this." She opened her mouth wide, and then creased it into a small oval.

"Too-weeeeeet"

"Okay."

"PTHHHHH"

She laughed, patting his head piteously, and whistled again.

"Come on, Sora!"

The insects below must have thought it was raining, which probably lead to confusion as to why the sky seemed so very very blue.

"I'm spitting everywhere…" he noted sadly, quietly closing his mouth.

The sun began to break against the skyline, leaking honey and orange juice and little starlight drops that spread across the sky like a spilt drink, and Sora despondently went inside with naught but a memory of spitting and looking foolish.

But she laughed.

And it was okay.

His palm tree thought it was funny though, because he could see it laughing through his favorite window, it laughed and laughed, doubled over in the howling winds outside.

Maybe it was lonely.

It cried with the clouds.

--

The trees didn't like storms. _His_ tree hated them. There was no fun to be had with the roaring winds and howling rains and crushing hail, and there was certainly no company to be had. The tree missed its friends.

"toooooo…pthh…."

He practiced in his room in a rapt staring match with his ceiling as he tried in vain to get noise betwixt his parched lips. Progress. But not much.

But Kairi'd be impressed anyway.

So that's nice.

--

The sun torched away the early morning fog, and the waterlogged grass shivered against the forgotten light. It shined through his window, and his eyes dazzled in the reflection of all the morning life emerging after the harsh weather.

The sun said hello, again.

The sink, however, was tired, and the stream of water was sluggish at best.

Not everything recovers so quickly, he decided.

But he saw red on his tree, and he knew that his friends were both long overdue for visits.

He was out in an instant, pajamas and gangly morning demeanor in tow, the toothbrush forgotten in the sink. It didn't like it outside much anyway.

"Hey there, sleepy head."

She remained in the tree, her smile just a tad bit brighter than the newly rekindled sun.

"I've been practicing," He grinned up at her, wondering slightly if his smile seemed as bright as hers did.

"Have you now?" She laughed, whistling a few bars with the chirping birds, and it was nice and clean and pure, and it made Sora just a little bit jealous that he couldn't do that.

"Yeah, listen…"

"tooo…oo…pth….oo"

It was feeble and low, a mere shadowy mimicry of what a whistle could be. The life was drained and the echo nonexistent – not a whistle at all, really.

But it was progress.

And progress is nice.

"You got a lot better!" she beamed, and sat down next to him. "But you have to shape your mouth like this—", she puckered tighter, "to get it to go up."

Sora looked on, bewildered.

She sighed, and paused for a moment.

"Like this," and she placed her lips softly against his, smoothly and gently guiding his into position. His heart stopped.

And he understood.

"Oh."

And the tree laughed.

.------------------------- End------------------------

Toooo-weeeeeeeet

Flames accepted, pals. Don't be scared to drop me a line if you have any suggestions, pm me or anything.

Cheers,

FallArbor


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